The butler led him down the long, stately hall and into the library, where the family had already gathered around the tree. It was their second Christmas with Uncle George, and the stockings, which they knew he would fill, were hung over the fireplace. The girls momentarily forgot about the stockings as they opened Nick's gifts eagerly, as George and Liane looked on. He had bought them beautiful toys. Each little girl hugged him warmly, and then he handed a package to George, which was obviously a book for the senior of the clan, and then he turned to Liane and handed a small box to her. He realized then that it was the first gift he'd ever given her. During their thirteen days on the ship there had been no time when he could have given anything to her, and from there they had gone straight to the train. He had thought about it often at first, with regret, that he'd never been able to give her anything, except his heart. But he would have liked to have known that she'd had something to remember him by. Little did he know that the memories he had left instead were far more durable than any gift, and she carried them deep inside her still.
“You shouldn't have.” She smiled, the small box still wrapped in her hand.
“I wanted to. Go on, open it. It won't bite.” George watched them with an interested eye. He had the feeling that they knew each other better than he'd realized, and perhaps better than they wanted him to know. And he watched Liane's eyes, as did Nick, as she opened the box, which held a single gold circlet for her arm, unbroken, without a catch, just a wide gold band. She slipped it over her arm now, but Nick reached out for it and spoke in a husky voice for no ears but hers. “Read what's inside.” She took it off again, and there was a single word. “Deauville.” And then she put it back on and looked at him, not sure if she should accept the gift, but she didn't have the heart to give it back to him.
“It's beautiful. You really shouldn't have, Nick …”
“Why not?” He tried to make light of what he felt, and said in a voice only she could hear, “I wanted to do that a long time ago; consider it a retroactive gift.” And then Uncle George opened his book, and exclaimed with delight. It was one he'd been anxious to read, and he shook Nick's hand. George regaled them all with tales of Nick's father, and how they'd met, and an outrageous caper they'd embarked on once, which had almost got them both arrested in New York. “Thank heavens he knew all the cops.” They had been speeding up Park Avenue and drinking champagne with two less-than-respectable women in the car, and he laughed at the memory, feeling young again, as Liane poured Nick a drink and another for herself. She sipped it as she watched him talk to Uncle George and felt the bracelet on her arm. She felt the weight of the gold almost as much as the single word written inside. “Deauville.” She had to fight back the memories again as she sipped her drink, and force herself to listen to what was being said.
“You made a crossing together once, didn't you?”
“Twice, in fact.” Nick smiled at her and she caught his eye. She hadn't told George that Nick had been on the Deauville.
“Both times on the Normandie?” He looked confused and Nick shook his head. It was too late to lie and they had nothing to hide. Anymore.
“Once on the Normandie, in thirty-nine. And last year on the Deauville when we both came back. I'm afraid I stayed over there a little too long, and got caught. I had a hell of a time getting out. I sent my son back on the Aquitania when the war broke out, but I didn't leave Paris until after the fall.” It sounded innocent enough, and when George glanced at Liane, he saw nothing there.
“That must have been quite a trip, with the rescue at sea.”
“It was.” His face sobered as he remembered the men that had been brought on board. “We worked like dogs to keep them alive. Liane was absolutely extraordinary. She worked in the surgery all night, and made rounds for days after that.”
“Everyone pitched in and did more than their share,” Liane was quick to interject.
“That's not true.” Nick looked her in the eye. “You did more than anyone aboard, and a lot of those men wouldn't have lived if it weren't for you.” She didn't answer and her uncle smiled.
“She's got a lot of guts, my niece. Sometimes not as much sense as I would like”—he smiled gently at her—“but more guts than most men I know.” The two men looked at her and she blushed at their words.
“Enough of that. What about you, Nick? When are you shipping out?” It sounded as though she were anxious for that, and in a way she was, not to send him into danger overseas, but to get herself out of a danger she still sensed when he was nearby.
“God only knows. They assigned me to a desk yesterday, which could mean anything. Six months, six weeks, six days. The orders come from Washington, and we just have to sit here and wait.”
“You could do worse, young man. It's a pleasant town.”
“Better than that.” He smiled at his host, and then glanced casually at Liane. They had heard nothing from the girls since they'd opened their gifts. They were entranced with them, and he only wished that Johnny could be here too. The butler announced dinner then, and they went into the enormous dining room. As they walked, George told Nick the history of various portraits on the walls.
“Liane lived here as a girl, you know. It was her father's house then.” And as George said the words, Nick remembered one of the first times they'd talked on the Normandie, when she had told him about her father, and Armand, and Odile, and even about her uncle George.
“It's a lovely house.”
“I like to watch my ships pass by.” He looked at the bay and then at Nick, with an embarrassed smile. “I suppose I'm old enough to admit that now. In my younger days, I might have pretended not to be proud of who I was.” He looked pointedly at Nick, and then turned their talk to steel. He knew a great deal about what Nick did and he was impressed at his having taken on the business so young, and from what he knew, Nick had done a fine job. “Who have you left in charge while you're gone?”
“Brett Williams. He was one of my father's men, and he ran things for me in the States while I was in France.” He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Lord, that seems a hundred years ago. Who would have thought we'd be in the war by now?”
“I always did. Roosevelt did too. He's been getting us ready for years, not that he'd admit it publicly.” Liane and Nick exchanged a smile, remembering their crossing on the Normandie, when so many had insisted that there wouldn't be a war.
“I'm afraid I wasn't as prescient as you. I think I refused to see the handwriting on the wall.”
“Most people did, you weren't alone. But I have to say that I didn't expect the Japanese to come right down our throats.” Already watch points had been set up all along the coast, there were blackouts at night, and California waited to see if they would strike again. “You're lucky to be young enough to fight. I was too old for the first one too. But you'll set things to right again.”
“I hope so, sir.” The two men exchanged a smile and Liane looked away. Her uncle never softened that way toward Armand, but then again he thought that Armand was in collaboration with the Germans. It hurt her not to be able to defend him, and Nick still didn't know about his liaison with Pétain. Somehow that bit of ugly news had never reached him. She dreaded the day that he would hear, and wondered if he ever would. Perhaps it would be after the war and then it wouldn't matter anymore.
The meal was a very pleasant one, and Nick left them early to go back to his hotel. George was an elderly man, no matter how spry he was, and Nick didn't want to overstay. He thought that Liane looked tired too when he left. She thanked him for the bracelet and the girls kissed him before he left, in thanks for the gifts. As he stood up he looked into Liane's eyes.