Free Peach by Elizabeth Adler Page B

bourgeois—business will always come first. And today, I for one am glad. It’s been a long time since I tasted Maxim’s food. And the champagne …”
    “Ah, the champagne. For you, Madame, we have the best—and on the house.” Escorting her personally to her table, Albert summoned the sommelier. “The Dom Perignon ’34 please, for Madame, and her companion.” He looked enquiringly at Caro.
    “I’m expecting Señor Goncalvez-Herrera from the Spanish Embassy,” she explained. Caro’s Spanish citizenship enabled her a degree of freedom denied the French, and now she was glad she had never succumbed to the temptation to change it, even though she had lived most of her life in France.
    Caro sipped the delicate champagne, closing her eyes as it slid deliciously down her throat, bringing back memories of magical nights when, in silks and jewels, she had been considered the toast of Paris. She and Leonie. Old friends, old companions in troubles and triumphs. Thank God Leonie had found a lasting happiness in her relationship with Jim. Good, all-American Jim, tall and handsome and ten years younger than Leonie, who had taken over her life and brought order from its chaos, ridding her of the Sekhmet legend … almost. God, how he loved her! Lucky, lucky Leonie to be so loved still.
    Enough of the past with all its regrets! She might as well see how the enemy behaved themselves in a place like this. She certainly hoped Albert didn’t let in any little upstarts like the officer who’d wanted her apartment! Her alert dark eyes roamed the familiar room. It was the same and yet it was different—the huge Art Nouveau mirrors reflected toomany uniforms with only here and there the brightly coloured dress of a woman to relieve the monotony. Ah, it used to be a peacock’s paradise here at Maxim’s, and now, in her modest little blue suit and bravely flowered hat, she looked quite exotic!
    “Madame Montalva. Do forgive me for being late. I’m afraid I was delayed at the embassy.” Her lunch companion took his seat with a smile. Carolina Montalva had never married but the “Madame” was a courtesy everyone afforded her these days.
    Caro smiled at him. He was quite young—well, to her he was young—forty-five or so! And he was charming and civilised—and he wasn’t wearing that
damned uniform!
“We look quite normal, you and I,” she said as the waiter filled their glasses, “and I feel quite gay, drinking champagne at Maxim’s. Like old times.”
    “Almost,” he said quietly. “And it’s as good a place as any to talk over your problems.”
    Caro shrugged. “They are not very bad problems,” she admitted, “when I think of some.”
    A burst of laughter came from the entrance cutting across their conversation, distracting her, and Caro glanced up irritably.
    The German officer must be of a very high rank for Albert to be quite so obsequious. Even from here she could see the glint of gold braid. And the man was loud, calling attention to his presence. Several officers near the entrance scrambled to their feet, saluting, and he waved them back genially. He was a good-looking man, if a little florid, and an officer of the old school. Aristocratic with the ridiculous monocle they all affected, and a coldness behind the smile that could chill your heart. Putting an arm around his companion he drew her forward into the restaurant. Albert bowed over the girl’s hand—Caro would bet it wasn’t hiswife. Who then? Some little French tart selling out for a taste of the good life? Poor silly creature. These girls did it all for the wrong reasons. She looked attractive and beautifully dressed—in this year’s clothes, not 1920s made over! Her eyes must be getting worse, though, because she could swear the girl looked like Lais, but no—it couldn’t be.
It simply couldn’t be her!
    Lais paused beside Caro’s table. “Why, Caro,” she said with a surprised smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “Nor