A Sudden Change of Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

two families had become acquainted, Claire had taken Laura and Dylan under her wing, had been baby-sitter, pal, and confidante.
    Cissy, the Valiant nanny, had had her hands full with Dylan, who was then only two and very naughty. So Claire had been a welcome addition to the Valiant household. An only child, Claire had loved being part of this extended family, especially since Laura’s grandparents, Owen and Megan Valiant, were very much in evidence. They all helped to make Claire feel like a very special member of their family.
    Because Claire attended Miss Hewitt’s School, Laura went there as well. And there came a time when the five-year difference in their ages suddenly seemed negligible. As teenagers and young women they were as inseparable as they had been as children, bonded together as sisters in soul and spirit, if not blood.
    Claire had married young, at twenty-one, and her daughter Natasha had been born a year later. Two years after that she had moved to Paris with her husband and child. But nothing, not distance, husband, or child, had ever come between them or changed the nature of their friendship. Very simply, they loved each other, and as Claire was wont to say, they would always be sisters under the skin, no matter what.
    The sad part was that Claire’s life had gone horribly wrong seven years before. Her marriage had foundered and she had divorced; her parents had died within a few weeks of each other, not long after this, and then Natasha had been in a car crash and had suffered serious injuries.But thanks to Claire’s nursing, the girl had made an amazing recovery.
    Laura roused herself, pushing herself up in the tub. Here she was, daydreaming about the past, when she should be getting dressed.
    No time to dawdle now.

2      
    “D on’t you like the room, Hercule?” Claire Benson asked, pausing near the grouping of Louis XV chairs and resting a hand on the back of one of them. “Is it the chairs? Do you think they’re inappropriate? Don’t they work?” She shot these questions at him as she glanced down at the silver-leafed wood frame under her hand, and then at the silver-gray upholstery. “Yes, it
is
the chairs, isn’t it?” she asserted. “Maybe they’re totally wrong for the setting.” Now she looked across at him questioningly, raising a perfectly curved auburn brow.
    The Frenchman chuckled. “Ah, Claire, so many questions you fire, rat-a-tat, and you make the jest,
n’est-ce pas?”
    “No, I’m being serious.”
    “The room is superb.
Formidable, oui.
You have the wonderful taste. The furniture, the fabrics you have chosen, this Aubusson rug, everything is perfection. But—”
    “But what?” she cut in before he could complete his sentence.
    “The room is incomplete, my dear. A room is never finished until it has—”
    “Art,” she supplied, and then immediately laughed when she saw the amusement in his face, the twinkle in hiseye. “I need paintings on these walls, Hercule, I know
that.
But what kind of paintings? That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to see the setting, to help me make some decisions about art. Shall I use a Picasso? Or a Gauguin? Or go for a modern work such as Larry Rivers? A van Gogh? A Renoir maybe? On the other hand, I could look for something really old, like a pair of Canalettos.”
    “A van Gogh or a Gauguin would give the room strength, but I do not think it is a strength you require here, Claire. And Canalettos would be wrong. A soft painting would be the ideal choice, something in the pastel tones. It would underscore the stillness, the sense of … quietude you have created. Also, this space has a light look. Airy. A Renoir, most definitely.
Oui. Parfait.”
    “Perfect, yes, I agree. But where am I going to find one? And who would lend me one for the photography? People don’t normally let their Renoirs out of their sight.”
    Hercule Junot smiled. “There is a possibility that I might be able to find one for you. A few months