Angels and Thieves

Chapter Two Andre

A GUSTY NOVEMBER wind whipped Parisian attorney André Gensonné's wool coat around his legs as he strode along a busy Paris boulevard. He'd dressed in black-tie to attend the Nutcracker ballet with another woman at Anne's insistence. André would rather be home with her.

André entered the lobby of Garden View, an exclusive retirement home with the ambiance of a five-star hotel. Genevieve Cloutier was seated in a burgundy chair. Her back was straight, and her legs were crossed at the ankles.

"Bonjour." He kissed her extended hand. Genevieve arose like an elegant butterfly although she was more than eighty.

"Bonjour Andre." The refined woman subscribed to the adage a woman doesn't reveal her age. Her thick shoulder-length hair was silver and her face smooth. Genevieve was an ageless beauty who adhered to meticulous French skincare.

"Did you receive the tickets?" Genevieve asked.

"I did. Thank you."

Genevieve's courier envelope had arrived yesterday. He'd given the Nutcracker Ballet tickets he'd already purchased to his office assistant when he'd received Genevieve's package. Both could afford to host the evening, and this was the second time Genevieve had taken the initiative. The first evening hadn't gone well. Was his chivalry threatened? Or was it the loss of control?

Anne might have worn the classic black dress with elbow-length sleeves. But Madame Cloutier's jewelry dated her to the late 1920's. Art Deco-inspired Tiffany earrings and multiple strings of cultured pearls—aged with patina—completed her ensemble. Genevieve had everything but family as did other women he'd befriended who'd lived in this home. She was childless.

The French were required by law to care for their older relatives according to their means. Some didn't have a family but had plenty of money to pay for care and Genevieve fit that description.

André started the practice of taking older women out when one of his former clients said she'd miss their business luncheons. So once a month, they went out to lunch or infrequently to a theatre or art event. After she died, he'd continued the custom with other women without family or friends. It was a way of compensating for his unearned wealth and status.

Genevieve Cloutier's closest friends had either left her through death or moving nearer to their children. But the resolute woman had gradually changed the luncheon ritual into an evening event—some extravagant soirées. André dreaded leaving Anne now that he was married.

"How is Anne?"

"Very well. Our baby is due in two months."

"She's having a baby?" Genevieve had asked the same question last month, and the month before.

"She is, we are."

"Your cab has arrived, Monsieur Gensonné." The desk attendant approached them with a deep burgundy coat and handed it to André. He held it for Genevieve as she gracefully slid into the arms and turned.

"Thank you." She slipped each button through its slit with precision. Genevieve never hurried. She looked up.

"It's freezing outside." Do you have a scarf and gloves?" André asked.

"Antoinette?" Her personal assistant materialized with soft kid-leather gloves. Genevieve maneuvered manicured fingers into them and accepted her feather-trimmed handbag.

André crooked his arm. Her hand alighted on his forearm as they proceeded through the door held open by the desk attendant. Genevieve was her most regal tonight. He seated her in the cab and circled the idling car, halting his arm halfway up. Checking the time when with Genevieve had become a habit and she let him know she abhorred it.