Staring up at La Tour d'Argent, Sabrina felt at once too tall in her high heels and too small to go in.
"The anticipation is the worst of it," she whispered firmly to herself before crossing the street to speak to the doorman. The olfactory delights wafting through the air barely registered in her brain.
She gave her name and was shown to the foyer of the private room on the fifth floor. As the maître-d' reached for the door handle, they both heard Linus' voice from within.
"It sounds like he's taking a call," Sabrina suggested in an undertone. "I'll wait out here until he's finished."
"Of course, madame."
Now alone, Sabrina rubbed her sleeved arms and tried not to be annoyed that Linus had supposedly come all the way to Europe to have dinner with her and had immediately started working as soon as he got here. She was only a few minutes late.
She'd chosen this dress because the bodice had just enough structure to make her feel suited up and confident; but at the moment, it was doing absolutely nothing to settle her nerves.
It was going to look very silly if more restaurant staff came up and found her still standing here. Surely Linus wouldn't mind if she had a listen.
"I'm not being dramatic, David. That's your department. … No, she's only six minutes late. If I didn't know better, I'd call that a power move. … Because it's Sabrina. … If I were her, I wouldn't come. … I have no idea."
Six minutes in and he was already prepared to give her up as a no-show? Maybe he was nervous. She felt better.
"No, I am not going to rehearse what I plan to tell her with you. … I know you have. That's different. … Because none of those girls were the one for you. You know that. You thought you loved them as long as you were with them, but you always got over it. … No … not even close. I tried working myself into a coronary, but that didn't help. I just kept seeing her everywhere.
"I don't expect her to believe that. She already told me I'd never love anyone. … Yes, she did. … Well, I had it coming. I … I manipulated her, I confused her, and by the time I started to mean any of it, I'd already screwed it up.
"No, not until after dinner. If she leaves here thinking this whole thing was a waste of time, at least she'll get a nice meal out of it. … Sure, if she wants dessert. … I'm glad you're so optimistic. Listen, I'll let you get back to work. Thanks for … whatever this was. … Yeah, I'll wait a while longer. I've got plenty to drink. Nothing strong enough, though. I'm about to call that maître-d'. All right."
He couldn't know she'd heard all that. Sabrina gasped in a breath and burst through the door before she heard his phone close.
"Hi, sorry I'm late!" she blurted. She folded her hands around her clutch and tried to smile casually. "What's the occasion?"
Linus just stared at her.
Sabrina pretended to notice the phone dangling from his hand, as if for the first time, and covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry, are you on a call? I can just — I can wait — out there …" She reached for the door, half minded to actually leave once she was out of sight. The look on his face was a little frightening.
He snapped out of it and busied himself with his phone antenna. "No, uh … no, I just finished. Come in."
A little of her archness returned. "I am in."
He held out a hand with an almost-smile. When she started to move toward him, he swept it toward the table. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Mm."
Now that the surprise was over, the discomfort had returned. Linus helped her with her chair and offered to pour the wine. Sabrina watched him spin the glasses into place and finish off each pour with a twist of the hand. He seemed so composed. She was sure her voice had shaken.
"So, are you finding Paris like you left it?" he asked as he swirled his glass.
"So far. I've only been here a few hours."
"On this trip, you mean?" He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on his seat back. "I'd have thought you'd be on the first plane here as soon as you left."
She didn't want to reward him for fishing, but she cleared her throat and did anyway. "No, this is my first time. Since I left New York, I mean. The last time."
He looked surprised.
"I wasn't ready yet," she told him.
She wanted to comment on how quickly he was getting comfortable, already shedding his jacket before they'd even ordered hors d'oeuvres. Instead she tilted her head a little and waited for him to say something.
Linus wanted to tell her she was beautiful, too beautiful to be here with him. Her hair was growing out, and it accented her face with its softness. Her simple black dress made her look like a queen. She should be out somewhere having fun, not sitting primly across from him like they were in an interview. Instead he looked around, remembering his errand.
"Have you ordered?" she asked, noting the lack of menus.
"No, not yet. Your father sent you something. I wanted to be sure I remembered to give it to you."
There was his briefcase, on a nearby sofa. He nodded toward it and got up to cross the room.
"You look very nice," he ventured over his shoulder as he opened the briefcase.
She laughed. "Thanks. You invited me to the oldest restaurant in Paris; I thought I'd better dress for the occasion." She gazed out at the twilight enveloping the city. "I've always loved this time of day here. I never saw it from this angle."
Linus reappeared at her side and offered her a small white souvenir box. "Looks like it came from here."
Sabrina's lips parted as she recognized what it was.
"Sure it wouldn't have been easier to pick up another one while you were in town?" He held it out a little closer.
A choked laugh stumbled out over the lump in her throat. "Have you opened it?" she asked, looking up at him.
Linus was equally confused by her question and her reaction. "No, it's yours." He rotated his hand back toward himself to scrutinize the lid, as if trying to determine what set it apart. "I guess you couldn't just pick up another one. Must be important."
"It's for you," she told him as she felt for a napkin. She wasn't crying, but everything inside her felt so fluttery that there was a very good chance it might happen. She took extra care to smooth the napkin out over her lap. This skirt seemed so short now that she was seated.
"For me?"
"Yes, yes. Open it and you'll see what I mean."
Linus took the box back to his seat, looking between it and Sabrina in utter perplexity. His expression made her giggle.
"Is it gonna bite me?"
"No, open it!"
He shook his head and gingerly lifted a corner of the lid. When nothing happened, he removed it to find a mound of white tissue paper with a little folded note tucked into one side.
"Why would he have me bring you this if it was for me?" he insisted.
"You'll see."
Linus picked the note out of the tissue paper. It looked minuscule in his blunt fingers as he unfolded it. Sabrina remembered perfectly what it said.
Cher Linus,
Maintenant, on est quitte.
SF
"I won't even try to pronounce this," he said. He held up the note with the words facing her. "I take offense to that first part, though. I look nothing like Cher."
"It means 'dear,'" she laughed. "To answer your question, look at the date."
The note was from shortly before her return to Long Island.
"You brought this back for me from Paris?"
"You asked me to, remember?" she teased. "Dad knew I wanted to give it to you myself."
Linus shook his head apologetically. Sabrina gestured for him to go on.
He tugged at the tissue as if afraid of breaking its contents. An edge came loose and showed him the item within was not breakable.
Lifting a pewter Eiffel Tower vertically between his finger and thumb, he broke into the biggest smile Sabrina had ever seen on his face. It pulled her breath up short.
He rolled the paperweight in his palm, understanding the box's previous weight now.
"You never forget anything, do you?"
"Neither do you," she countered. "Well. Most of the time."
She looked down shyly. Her eyes lighted on the note. He remembered it too.
"Let's see," he read. "'Dear Linus.' What's the rest of it?"
"'Now we're even,'" she said.
His eyes trained on her with such focus, it was overpowering. She bit her lip as he took his glasses off.
"Seems like 'on est' should mean 'one is,'" he reasoned. "It means we're even?"
"Yes. The other way to say it is 'nous sommes quittes.' That can mean 'we're even,' or 'we're done.'" She took a deep breath. "I didn't want to take any chances with the other interpretation."
He studied the date again. "But you wrote this before you got back," he pointed out. "We couldn't be done. We hadn't started."
Sabrina lifted her chin slightly. From the shoulders up, she looked regal, but her fingers were interlaced tightly under the table.
"Started what?"
Linus sighed and lowered his head. "I, uh …" He fiddled with the paperweight once more and busied himself with (clumsily) repacking the box.
"I heard you talking to David," she confessed. He looked up quickly. "I didn't mean to. You were on the call when I arrived, and I didn't want to disturb you. But whatever you've brought me here to say, I'd rather you said it now. I can't get through an entire meal like this."
They regarded each other for a moment. Then Linus nodded and folded his hands. "I suppose that's fair." He cleared his throat.
"Look, I've always … My father was always honest with the people he did business with. They knew what they were getting. If he didn't like you, he'd tell you. If he wanted something, you'd know what terms to expect. He did well.
"When I took over, everyone expected me to be just like him, follow in his footsteps, and I did. But I wanted to do more. When the opportunity with Tyson came along, it was a bigger deal than he ever made. It practically arranged itself, what with David falling for Elizabeth, and the marriage being her idea. It was the biggest shot of my career. I was willing to do whatever it took. Then you got in the way."
Sabrina nodded somberly. "When I said they sent you to deal with me …"
"Your instincts were right," he answered with a rueful smile. "I sent myself."
"Because I could have lost you a billion dollars."
"I couldn't afford to take that risk."
"I thought you could afford anything," she parried, gesturing around the room. "Look at where we are."
Linus looked down sheepishly, very like when she'd praised his jet.
"Well, even though I didn't take you up on your offer, everything seems to have turned out all right," she observed, standing up. She started to pace as she ticked off items on her fingers. "David got married, the merger happened, Larrabee stock is stronger than ever … you got everything you wanted."
"That's not true." Linus stood up too, giving Sabrina a start. "I lied to you. You figured it out, but … by that point, it had started to be true. And I couldn't tell you. You were gone."
"Because of you," she defended.
"Yes."
Sabrina kept her face turned resolutely away, staring holes into his briefcase instead where it lay on the sofa. Sitting down again might be a good idea, actually. She wandered over with feigned casualness and sat gingerly beside the briefcase. It looked well-worn. The handle must have been replaced not long ago. Its hinges were shinier than the other hardware on the bag. No brand name was visible, of course.
Seeing that she was agitated, Linus deliberately calmed his voice when he spoke again.
"David said I showed him how to let you go. I didn't, though. I tried. I worked harder. I rearranged my office so I couldn't see you in it, I—"
He cut himself off before mentioning the near heart attacks or the forced vacation. He wasn't playing for sympathy.
Looking down at his hands in mid-gesture, he realized he'd moved toward her. Sabrina's head was still turned away.
"I told your father I need you," he said.
She fidgeted with his briefcase handle.
"Suppose you are telling the truth," she ventured, unsteadily. "I don't know how to believe you. Why should—"
"Because you know me," he pressed. "Better than anyone else."
He sounded closer.
The unexpected memory of how Linus had heard her anguished confession of love for David struck Sabrina as unbelievably silly. She dropped the handle and collapsed into a laugh against the back of the sofa, her face buried in her arm.
"Did you know," she managed after a moment, "I was tipsy when I said that?"
Linus bent his head in resignation. He'd pictured her leaving him behind again, in calm dignity or in angry dignity, but not laughing. That was worse. Even though the sound had to make him smile, it told him clearly that this, too, meant her final answer would send him forth from here alone.
"That, I did not know," he admitted.
He watched fondly as her laughter exhausted itself. She reached up to dry her eyes with the heel of her hand, which jolted him into swiping a napkin from the table and offering it instead. She had the grace to take it and finish the job.
Once again, he was at a loss. If he thanked her for hearing him out and told her she was under no obligation to stay, would she think he was rushing her to leave?
"Well," Linus said, a tad gruffly, "excuse me a moment. If you need the waiter, the bell's right here. Order whatever you like."
"You're not leaving?" Sabrina asked, alarmed.
Oh.
"No, uh, just … need to get some air."
"Open the window," she suggested, crossing the room to do that very thing.
His eyes clung to her as she felt along the sash for the catches and pushed it open.
"That's a lovely breeze," she enthused. "Come and feel it."
Linus obeyed automatically. She stayed next to him as he leaned into the evening draft. No closer, no further away. She seemed content to bask in the sunset.
"Tell me what to do, Sabrina," he murmured, watching her.
His hands tightened on the windowsill. She smelled like bergamot and … heck if he knew. Every flower. His blood was booming in his ears.
Sabrina touched the back of his nearer hand with her fingertips. "Forgive yourself," she told him.
Her piercing eyes held so much insight that she looked as though she'd lived forever.
"David never noticed me, not really. When I came home, he saw my makeup and my new clothes for a while, but he never saw me." She glanced down, suddenly shy. "You always did. That's why I wanted to give you your paperweight in person."
Linus turned his hand over and caught her fingers.
"Sabrina." His voice deepened. "If you don't want … if you don't want me to …"
His arms had a mind of their own and were pulling her closer as he spoke.
"… you'd better tell me now," he warned.
Sabrina's steadying hands found his shoulders, then moved to brush the sides of his face.
"Would you listen?" she asked.
He ignored the question, all of his focus concentrated on the little gap between her lips when she breathed.
"They'll say I'm after your money," she protested.
"They'll say I'm too old for you."
She reached up to close the distance between them as fast as he leaned in to meet her.
He'd claimed that the light surprise kiss he gave her in the solarium was "from David." That was one raindrop before the storm compared to all he could do. This was months' worth of grief, longing, and passion that he'd never expressed, and she'd never known was in him.
Sabrina felt herself sinking. Dimly, she sensed a hand moving up her neck to hold her head. Her own hands were clenched around something soft. Fabric? Hair?
She tipped her head back to breathe and opened her eyes. There were tears on Linus' face. Whose, she didn't know. She smoothed them away from his cheekbones with her fingertips. He held her tighter against him.
"Don't leave, don't leave me, Sabrina," he begged.
The grip of his fingers on her arms and around her waist was full of fear. He kissed her again hurriedly before she could answer.
"Of course I'll stay," she murmured into his neck as soon as she could. "You promised me dinner."
"And after that?" He raised her face to look at him. "I'll take you anywhere you want to go. I'll be your chauffeur. Just don't leave me again. Please."
Sabrina took his head between her hands. "Would you feel better if I slapped you, for old times' sake?"
"I'd let you."
She pulled him close and kissed him gently until he relaxed enough to smile at her. It was dizzying. He released her with one arm to take her hand in his, as if they were dancing, and kissed the fingers of the hand he held. His eyes glowed at her over the top of them.
"Now," she panted, stroking the side of his head with her free hand, "shall we sit down and ring for the waiter, and order our first course like civilized people?"
