Precious Gifts by Danielle Steel Read Free Book Online

the same thing, but was distracted by the details of the funeral she was organizing as a final tribute to the father of her children, and man she had loved so passionately long ago. The flowers were going to be spectacular, and she had selected music he loved. This was her final gift to him, and she wanted it to be as dignified and elegant as he would have wanted. Just as he had lived, Paul Parker was going out in style.
    The four women sat in her kitchen for two hours, talking and drinking tea. Timmie actually dared to suggest at the end that Juliette was mourning the father he hadn’t been as much as the one he was.
    “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Juliette said immediately in his defense. “He was a wonderful father.” Timmie clenched her teeth and didn’t speak, and Véronique distracted them with more of the details, which were a mercy for her. She didn’t want the girls arguing now, of all times, although she knew that what Timmie had said was true. Juliette had had illusions about her father all her life, and although she said they spoke almost every day, no one pointed out that she had called him. Then finally Timmie and Joy went downtown to Timmie’s apartment, and Juliette went back to Brooklyn, to be alone.
    They were all going to the rosary together the following night, and the funeral the day after. Notice of it would be printed in the
Times
the next morning, and Véronique had arranged for two cars to pick the girls up, and for the funeral the next day as well. She wanted to make it all as easy for them as she could. She knew what it was like to lose a father, and no one had made it easier for her. She felt as though it was the least she could do for them. It was typical of her, to think of everything she could to make their lives easier, although they didn’t notice it and were used to their mother doing for everyone, in her quiet methodical way. She had done it all their lives.
    Véronique sat lost in thought after they left the apartment, dreading the formalities of the next two days. She couldn’t help thinking that once again, he had left her to comfort their children, take care of everything, and pay all the bills. It had been an assumption he had always made, even when he was alive. In death, it was no different. But she suddenly missed being able to call him. There were no friends she wanted to share this with, and most of them wouldn’t have understood. Their relationship was too unusual among divorced people, particularly as he’d never been much of a father or husband, but he was her friend, and had been for more than half of her adult life. It was a lot to lose, and he had the elegance, panache, and style of another time.
    The rosary the next day was simple and formal. Long lines of people she didn’t know came to sign the leather book she had set out. There were pretty young women, younger than his daughters, who didn’t introduce themselves, well-dressed couples, and a number of men close to his age, who had been his acquaintances or friends. A few of them shook Véronique’s hand and extended their condolences, and several of them eyed Timmie, Juliette, and Joy, all of whom had worn simple black dresses, and looked serious as they stood with their mother. And afterward they all went home exhausted, and feeling drained.
    The next day was more of the same, though on a larger scale. And much to Véronique’s surprise, the mourners nearly filled the church. The smell of the fragrant white flowers was heavy in the air. There were huge urns of them throughout the church, and a blanket of tiny white orchids over the dark mahogany coffin they had chosen, and she had managed to find two of his friends to act as pallbearers with Bertie and Arnold, the other four were provided by Frank Campbell’s, and the casket was moved on wheels.
    Bertie hadn’t come to the rosary the night before, but he showed up at the church before the service to meet Véronique and the girls. They were