Precious Gifts by Danielle Steel Read Free Book Online Page A

startled that he had a young woman with him. She was wearing a short black skirt, a low-cut black silk blouse, stiletto heels, and too much makeup, and seemed bored. She never said a word to them, and Bertie didn’t introduce her. They had no idea if she was his girlfriend, or just a woman he had brought along. He didn’t bother to explain, and no one asked.
    He appeared faintly annoyed to be there, although he had worn an appropriate black suit, white shirt, and black Hermès tie, with expensive well-shined shoes, and he was as handsome as his father. He had the look, but not the heart. Paul had been self-centered and narcissistic, but there had been a warm side to him as well. The stare Bertie gave his stepmother and sisters was calculating and ice cold. Véronique invited him to sit in the front pew with them—he was Paul’s son, after all. After the casket was in place, he slid onto the front bench with the young woman, and whispered to her as they waited for the funeral to start.
    They all agreed afterward that it was a beautiful service, worthy of their father. People shook their hands outside the church, and the family disappeared to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, where the priest said a few brief words, and they left the casket at Véronique’s family plot. She didn’t know where else to bury him, hadn’t wanted to buy a single lonely grave, and she thought the girls would like him with the rest of the family. Véronique’s parents were buried there as well.
    Bertie had a separate car to take him and the young woman back to the city, and they had figured out by then that her name was Debbie. They joined everyone at Véronique’s apartment, where the caterer had set out a full buffet in the dining room, there were white flowers everywhere, and more than a hundred people were eating, talking, and waiting for them. The only person Véronique recognized in the crowd was Arnold, whose face lit up when he saw her, and he approached Véronique and the girls.
    “It looks like a wedding,” Timmie said under her breath with obvious disapproval to Joy, who nodded. It did. Their mother had done a beautiful job, honoring him, which came as no surprise. “Did she do this for him, herself, or us?” Timmie asked out loud.
    “Probably all three,” Joy answered, as Arnold embraced their mother. It had been obvious to everyone for years that he had a major soft spot for her, and would have loved to pursue it with her, but Véronique wasn’t open to the idea, and although she was kind to him, she had always made that clear. He was somewhere in his sixties, a very successful lawyer, an attractive man, and had been divorced for many years. Véronique had no interest in him other than as an attorney and Paul’s closest friend. Whatever his aspirations, it went no further than that for her.
    “You did a beautiful job,” Arnold complimented her, and Véronique smiled and thanked him, as Juliette helped herself at the buffet, still looking ravaged by the funeral service. The “Ave Maria” had nearly destroyed her, and she still seemed shaken, as she filled her plate. Joy and Timmie stood talking quietly. None of them knew anyone in the room, among Paul’s friends. They looked like what they were, café society and jet set, people who had known him in a superficial way but had come anyway and were enjoying the party atmosphere at his ex-wife’s home.
    “Your mother must have spent a fortune on this,” Bertie commented unpleasantly to Timmie, as she gave him an ugly look.
    “Apparently she thought Dad was worth it,” she said sternly. Joy stood there wondering if fireworks were going to erupt, just as Arnold walked up to them. All three sisters were together with Bertie, while Véronique said something to one of the waiters, who was pouring white wine and champagne for the guests.
    “I’d like to make a suggestion, since you’re all here,” Arnold said blandly. “There’s no longer a formal reading of the will.