Night Watch

THIRTY-SEVEN

The three of us devoured the feast prepared in the Patroon kitchen. We’d all been working so hard that we’d existed on junk food, caffeinated drinks, and pure adrenaline. The conversation was bland. We stayed away from Luc and his situation, and the latest revelations about Baby Mo.

The restaurant was only ten minutes from my apartment. I took my place in the backseat for the short ride.

“Are things so bad you’re not going to let me call Luc and say good night?” I asked. “Do you even know where he is?”

Mercer took his eyes off the road to glance at Mike.

“He’s working, Coop.”

“Where? On what?”

“He’s at Lutèce. I dropped him off at the building when we left Brooklyn. He was meeting the designer there, and some of his suppliers. You want to call? Go ahead.”

I leaned forward and took hold of the collar of Mike’s blazer. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you? You two are planning to drop me off and go talk to Luc, am I right?”

Mercer flashed Mike another glance.

“I want to come along, Mike. It’s not fair. Think how devastated he must be. It’s another dozen blocks past my apartment. I want to see him, too. Just for ten, fifteen minutes. Just to say good night.”

“What’s the harm?” Mercer asked.

Mike twisted his neck to release my hand from his jacket. “What if-? That’s the harm. What if the Brooklyn Homicide cops are tailing him?”

“So I pop in for a visit. I say good night. What’s the big deal? They know we’re-we’re, uh-” I couldn’t manage to say that we were lovers.

“You’re what? What are you two anyway?” Mike asked.

I leaned back against the seat. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

I knew that I loved Luc, but I couldn’t articulate that fact at the moment.

Mercer continued on past 79th Street, making his way to the quiet row of town houses on the block where Lutèce was located. He double-parked near the restaurant, which had no signage and such an understated facade that it looked like just one more multimillion-dollar residence.

“It’s almost ten o’clock, Coop. Take fifteen minutes and then I’ll send you packing,” Mike said.

I got out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk. There was someone-an adolescent, I thought-peeking out of the window of the building to the west of Lutèce. A small dog beside him, on the edge of the sofa, was barking, probably at the sound of the car door as I slammed it shut.

On the far side of the restaurant was a twin to the Lutèce building-a common architectural feature of Upper East Side Manhattan streets. They were identical in style and feature-both of Beaux Arts limestone-and Luc told me they had been part of the dowry a wealthy Englishman gave to each of his daughters when they married American financiers a century ago.

The restaurant appeared to be dimly lit from within, but I had been cautioned that the interior space had not been completely decorated yet.

I held on to the railing as I took three steps down off the sidewalk to the front door. I knocked loudly and thought I heard footsteps within. Two workmen emerged from the twin building as I waited, depositing a wheelbarrow full of debris in garbage pails on the sidewalk before locking the front gate. They saw me and both said good night.

Luc opened the door, surprised to see me. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I just needed to set eyes on you once today. I know you’re expecting Mike, but I came to say good night.”

“I couldn’t be happier, Alex. Come,” he said, taking my hand. He was wearing a light blue linen shirt open at the neck, with jeans and driving moccasins. “Come see what we’ve done so far. Just watch your step over these wooden planks.”

I looked around, and in the soft light emanating from the back of the long space, the restaurant looked every bit as stunning-though much more formal-than the rooms at Le Relais. The trademark trellis that lined the walls behind the plush banquettes was the same soft green as in Mougins, and small brass sconces would no doubt be filled with tiny peach-colored bulbs that would throw the most flattering light on the women sitting beneath them.

“Oh, Luc, it’s so elegant.”

“It will be, darling, once everything is installed.”

That was when I heard voices from the darkened rear corner of the room. “There’s someone here with you?”

“Yes, Alex. I haven’t been able to get anything done during the day, so we’re making up for it now.”

As I approached the last round table just outside the kitchen door, I recognized Gina Varona. “Good evening, Gina.”

“Hello, Alex. I didn’t know Luc was expecting you.”

“He wasn’t,” I said. “But I hope he isn’t as disappointed as you are.”

“Not at all. We were just about to leave anyway,” she said. “C’mon, Josh.”

The man who stood up from the table was the same guy who’d been waiting for me in my driveway on Monday night, the one Luc told me was an old friend.

“Alex, this is Josh Hanson,” Luc said.

My cheerful expression had vanished instantly. “We’ve met.”

He didn’t look quite as sinister now, clean shaven and dressed in a business suit.

“The last thing I’d intended was to scare you, Alex. Luc asked me to go to your place and assure you-”

“I understand, Josh. I probably overreacted.” I had no intention of apologizing for the swift kick I had delivered to his kneecap.

“You don’t have to leave,” Luc said to both of them.

“It’s late. We’ve got all day tomorrow, haven’t we?” Gina Varona asked.

“It’s clear on my end.”

She picked up her tote-Prada, of course-and finished her glass of red wine. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

I wasn’t able to hide my curiosity. “Who’s Josh Hanson and why is he here? You told me he was an old friend of yours.”

“He’s a friend of Gina’s actually. He’s been a client of mine in Mougins for years, but it was she who first introduced me to him. Josh is in advertising. He broke away from Ogilvy and Mather and started his own shop. Kind of a big deal.”

“Is he involved in the restaurant?”

“He wants to be, Alex,” Luc said, seeming a bit agitated as he cleaned up the papers that they’d been examining before I came in.

“Are you thinking of bringing in another partner? I wish you’d talk to Ken about this. How many backers do you need?”

Luc was jamming the papers into his briefcase.

“It’s not entirely up to me. Gina’s willing to give Josh a piece. I think she’s squabbling with Peter already.”

“Fighting about money?”

“The damn place isn’t even ready to open yet and Gina and Peter are at each other’s throats,” Luc said. “I’m so used to operating alone, with just my father watching out for me, that I’m ready to throw up my hands and go back to Mougins. I’m a lone wolf at Le Relais, and I much prefer it that way.”

Luc took the jacket off the back of his chair and put it on. He lifted his briefcase from the table but had forgotten to clasp the lock, and the papers inside spilled out all over the floor.

“Damn it,” he said. “I’d just like to take you and run away from here. Leave all of this pressure behind. Where would you like to go, darling? Some little island in the South Pacific?”

Luc kneeled to scoop up the papers, and I could see that his hands were shaking.

I got down beside him and helped with the pick-up. There appeared to be endless pages with numbers and prices and lists of distributors on them.

Luc grabbed my wrist with his hand. “You’ve got to help me, Alex. You’ve got-”

I put my other hand on his cheek to calm him. I did my best to conjure up a smile. “Don’t get crazy, Luc. I’m not running away with you.”

“Not that, Alex. I’m not talking about that,” Luc said, keeping a firm grip on my wrist. “I need you to get me a lawyer.”