Three Weeks in Paris Read Online Free PDF

nodded. “Just as a matter of interest, how old is he? Tom, I mean.”
    “He’s forty-two.”
    Diane nodded, searched her daughter’s face intently, and wondered out loud, “Do you love Jack Wilton a little bit at least?”
    “Yes, I do love him in a certain way.”
    “Not the way you love Tom?” Diane ventured to ask.
    “No.”
    “You could make a life with Jack, though?”
    Alexandra nodded. “I think so. Jack’s got a lot going for himself. He’s very attractive and charming, and we get on well. We’re compatible, he makes me laugh, and we understand each other, understand where we’re both coming from, which is sometimes the same place. We admire each other’s talents, and respect each other.” She half smiled at her mother. “He loves me, you know. He wants to marry me.”
    “Would you marry him?” Diane asked quietly, hoping for an answer in the affirmative.
    Alexa leaned against her mother, and a deep sigh escaped her. Unexpectedly, tears spilled out of her eyes. Then she swiftly straightened, flicked the tears away with her fingertips. “I thought I could, Mom, I really did. But now I don’t know. Ever since that invitation arrived yesterday, I’ve been in a turmoil.”
    “You won’t be able to resist seeing Tom if you go to Paris, is that what you’re telling me?”
    “I guess I am.”
    “But you’re stronger than that … you’ve always been strong, even when you were a little girl.”
    Alexa was silent.
    After a short while, Diane said slowly, carefully, “Here’s what your loving and very devoted sounding board thinks. You have to forget Tom, as you know you should. You must put him out of your mind once and for all. He’s not for you, Alexa, or anybody else, in my opinion. What happened to his wife and child was unbearable, very, very tragic, and so heartrending. But it
was
years ago. Sixteen years ago, to be precise. And if he’s not over it by now—”
    “He wasn’t over it three years ago, but I don’t know about now—”
    “—then he never will be,” Diane continued in a very firm voice. “Your life is here in New York, not in Paris. For the most part, your work is here, and you know you can make a wonderful life with Jack. And that’s what you should do—” Diane stopped, tightened her embrace, and said against her daughter’s glossy dark hair, “There are all kinds of love, you know. Degrees of love. And sometimes the great love of one’s life is not meant to last … perhaps that’s how it becomes the
great love
 … by ending.” Diane sighed, but after a moment she went on. “I know it’s hard to give someone up. But, in fact, Tom Conners gave you up, Alexa. Not vice versa, so why torture yourself? My advice to you is not to go to Paris. That way you won’t be tempted to see Tom, and open up all those wounds.”
    “I guess you’re right, Mom. You usually are. But Anya’s going to be really upset if I don’t go to the party.”
    “I’m sure she will be.” There was a slight pause, and then Diane exclaimed, “There
is
an alternative! You and Jack could go to Paris together. Obviously, you couldn’t go looking for Tom if you were there with another man.”
    Want to bet? Alexandra thought, but said, “The invitation doesn’t include a guest. Only my name is written on it. And I’m sure Anya’s invited only former pupils and her family.”
    “But she wouldn’t refuse
you
 … not if you said you were coming to Paris with your … fiancé.”
    “I don’t know what she’d do, actually. And I have to think about that, Mom, all of what you’ve just said … and implied.”
    ————
    THE INVITATION STOOD PROPPED up on the mantel next to the carriage clock, and the first thing Alexandra did when she got home was to pick it up and read it again.
    Down in the left-hand corner, underneath the letters
    RSVP, was the date of the deadline to accept or decline:
April the first
. And in the right-hand corner it said Black Tie and